Return of the Cybermen
by MelissaLianne
Summary: Seeing as we won't be getting DW next year I think I decided to write a few stories to keep the peace. Who is the stranger in the red dress, and why has Donna remembered? R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I've decided to write a collection of stories for series 'five' whenever that'll be. I hope my stories will provide some entertainment. Of course, I will never reach Russell T Davies standard, but I can always try. Tools used for this chapter are solid imagination, and my iTunes library. Hehe! Ps, Donna is going to have dreams about the doctor. And no she won't explode, damn it. Seriously - the time war was 'permanently' locked, and then Dalek Sec unlocked it. Granted ''A dalek is a genius, it can crack a billion codes in one second,'' but even so.

**The Doctor (voice over) - **Things have been different since Donna left. Different can be good ... and it can be bad. It can be unknown - a void, not only in dimension, but in you - who you are. Rose said that the darkness was coming. And she was right.

**Joe Jefferson was an average man working in London. Being offered a job at Temptons, the new magazine headquarters was a really good deal for him to be offered. Money was tight, as his wife, Alice, put it - and this job was coincidental. Coincidentally perfect. "This is good, Joe," said Alice, who was sifting through bills at the time, looking worried. **

**Joe narrowed his eyes. "Don't you think it's odd that I get a call from somebody with no number, offering me a job with a brand new magazine nobody has heard of?"  
"Hence why you used the phrase 'brand new,'" chuckled Alice. Concern washed over her face as she glanced at her husband. "Joe, this will be good! What's the harm in going along? The salary is ... fifty thousand pounds a year, and there are bonuses. Joe... we really need this. They obviously asked you because you're special."  
"Special," echoed Joe, embracing his wife, "That's me."**

_Donna Noble had been on the internet, looking for jobs. "Come on Donna," said her mother, slightly patronisingly, "You've been there for an hour, and that doesn't look like the job centre site to me!"  
Donna sighed. "Mum, I am perfectly capable of finding myself a job!" She turned around on the chair, her eyes indignant, and perhaps, slightly willfull._

_"Not when you're browsing jargon..." Her mum lent over her and clicked the site back up, and her face fell. "Blue box?"  
"Yeah... dunno why I put that into the search engine."  
"Well... get back to searching, Donna."  
"Yes mum..."_

The Doctor was strolling along main London, eating from a bag of chips, casually walking past the chain stores, dodging through the hoards of people who were determined to get home. He finished the last chip with relish, abandoning his rubbish in a nearby bin, when something caught his attention. A leaflet, in a bin. Not an unusual thing, he thought, but it was a rather posh looking invitation. He snatched it quickly and began to walk away, reading it.

He didn't notice the woman in the red dress watching him.

The invitation was to an opera thing. Opera wasn't his thing, but hey, it wasn't like he had the world to save... yet. He pocketed the invitation and wandered away from the crowded area, back to the TARDIS.

_**Sorry it's short. I'll do a longer chap next time. **_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Next chapter, yay. Thanks for the reviews guys, keep 'em coming. I haven't updated any of my stories for quite a while because, well, I didn't know what to write. So perhaps I was going through yet another form of writers block? Eh. I don't know. I was in the middle of updating Confessions of a Black when my muse dissapeared and voila. Anyway, I hope you like this._

The Doctor was never really a man for dressing up. Never had been, never will be.

Of course, if he was going to another planet or galaxy, he'd just wear his comfy suit and converses. But it was a bit different on Earth, especially in the 21st century, were everybody was slightly judgemental about clothes. If you didn't have the right clothes, you were a loser, an outcast. Even though the Doctor had been called these words many a time (and considered them a compliment) he decided it would be wise to dress neat - ish - for once. Ah well. Humans wouldn't be as bossy and demanding in the 25th century, when the Holadisumis had been invented - a sort of brain patch - but he decided not to revisit them some what painful memories...

Browsing through one of his many wardrobes, he half smiled as he recalled how Donna had shrieked at his many outfits. ("You've got more outfits than me, AND my mate Alicia, even though she's got one of those well paid jobs. Gotta admit though, SpaceBoy, you have some taste...") His hands selected one of the more modern looking outfits, one were bad things always seemed to strike...

His black suit. The one were the Cybermen had returned when he had wore it, the one were he witnessed Lazarus change what it meant to be human...

"Ah well," he said to his reflection, baring his teeth and sticking his tongue out, "It'll do."

After changing, he smoothed back his hair, put his glasses in his pocket, and strode out of the TARDIS. As per usual, nobody noticed (or really cared for the strange blue box by the parking lot) and so he went towards the local bus stop, and waited patiently with an elderly lady with a hearing aid, and two young men. The men, it seemed, appeared to be having some form of argument. "I'm telling yer," said the dark haired man, "Somethin' weird is goin' on, Jake!"  
"As if," snorted Jake, shaking his head. "Nothing's going on, muppet!"  
"Something weird?" the Doctor intruded the conversation, looking interested. "And what weird thing might it be?"  
"Ask him," said Jake rudely, turning away to inspect the bus times.  
The Doctor looked at the red headed man with an encouraging smile. "So what's going on... I didn't quite catch your name there, either..."  
"I'm Caleb," informed the other man with a smile, "And you?"

"The Doctor," he replied serenely.

Jake snorted again but Caleb nodded politely. "Well, for starts, there's been tons of readings on aliens over the past few years, haven't there?"  
"Dunno," replied the Doctor, "I've spent most of my time in ... Barcelona."

"Oh," said Caleb, "Well, anyway, there's been a bit o' weird stuff goin' on lately. Like there's somethin' in the air, can't yer feel it? And it's always cold now, too, but Jake here," he pointed to his solemn friend, "Says it's normal cus it's England, 'n Englands always cold."

The Doctor said nothing, but continued to listen.

"Well... that's it really," Caleb added, looking sheepish, "But yer, Jake won't agree with me. Doesn't believe in anythin' that doesn't have blonde hair and big--"

"-- yeah, I see..."

The old lady had been watching them with mild fasinaction. "I believe in aliens," she said, "When I was a little girl, there was something in my wardrobe."  
"Oh, no one cares," interjected Jake, turning around to face the lady, "You were probably seeing stuff."  
The lady waggled a finger of him. "So juvenile! So narrow minded! No. It wasn't a spider, of my imagination, or nothin' like that. It was a ghost," she said triumphantly.  
"Er, may I interject, Mrs...?"

"Reficul," she nodded, "And yes you may."  
"Right, Mrs Reficul, well, ghosts don't exist. It's just a memory, lingering on the base of were it used to exist. What you saw may of appeared to be a ghost, but it wasn't."  
Mrs Reficul looked taken aback. "You sure knows a lot about these things, then, Mr...?"

"Doctor," said Caleb helpfully. The Doctor nodded cheerfully.

"Look, are you gettin' on the bus or not?"

It appeared the bus had already arrived, and Jake was boarding. "C'mon, Caleb, we're gunna miss the beginning!"

"Of...?" said the Doctor, letting Mrs Reficul on first.

"The Opera thing, innit? We got free invitations."  
"Oh," said Mrs Reficul coyly, showing her pass to the bus driver who looked sour, "Me too. That'll be nice. We can all sit together."

Jake snarled and sat down with Caleb.  
"How much?" asked the Doctor to the driver, getting out his psychic paper.

"1 pounds twenty pence, mate -- oh, you're from the company, I see... well, sit down then... I can't drive til you do..."  
"Right. Yes, sorry." The Doctor sat down near the front, next to the old lady.

This was going to be interesting...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: First of, I would like to apologize to all of my wonderful reviewers for not updating earlier

**A/N:** _First of, I would like to apologize to all of my wonderful reviewers for not updating earlier. Right now, I'm not typing this in WordPad, as I ordinarily do, but in Microsoft word, which I have yet to get to grips with once more. (Bare in mind I uninstalled it… ahem… two years ago, and no longer have the amazing version I used on the school computers, but rather the version from 2004. Aheh. Anyway, went off track just a little there. I hope you guys enjoy this, and so without further ado… Ideas are copyright me._

"Donna?"

The voice of Sylvia Noble drifted through the house in a patronising tone, deciding to linger for several long moments before vanishing, as the bedroom door was pushed open for the second time that day. 'Donna! Really, have you actually found a job? Maybe I should look for you, seeing as you're incapable.' Sylvia placed a mug of tea on the desk, before straightening up to look her daughter over, her expression dithering between concern and annoyance.

'Mum, really,' said Donna, not looking up from the keyboard, 'I'm fine. Look…' her tone softened, and she paused in her typing. 'I'm alright, honestly. I've not gone onto some Bingo site, or ordered things from eBay, have I?'

'Well…' Sylvia looked unsure, but Donna cut across her hesitation quickly.

'I'm fine, honestly. I've found a really good job for this new magazine company, actually, so I need to get my CV out and my GCSE results, although to be fair,' she faltered, 'They're not asking for that much…'

Sylvia raised her eyebrows a fraction. "Oh really, Donna? I've heard about these scams on the internet, lure some innocent woman into a promising job with a good pay, only for it not to exist, and then--'

'Give the girl a break, Sylv!' Wilfred Mott, Donna's Granddad, entered the room, holding his precious telescope in his arms. He shook his head at Sylvia. 'Let her find the job she wants to do – you're not going to do it for her, eh? Anyway, Donna love, I was wondering if you wanted to do some star-gazing with me tonight. Like you used—' Sylvia threw Wilfred a dark look and he ended his sentence abruptly.

Donna hadn't noticed the tension rise in the room, and smiled at her screen, still not turning around. 'Sure, gramps.'

'Dad, a word - _please_,' Sylvia led her dad out of the room before he had a chance to protest, and once the door was closed, her body relaxed - but only slightly. 'We're meant to be keeping this a secret from her! You can't go saying things like that! She can't star-gaze with you – don't you remember what The Doctor said?'

Wilfred looked completely taken aback. 'I didn't mean _like that_, Sylv…'

Sylvia shook her head in despair. 'It's alright dad – just be more careful next time!'

- -

Joe Jefferson was sitting anxiously in the waiting room of Flow Dab, the new magazine company. The room was bright and glossy, just like the new magazine. The walls were a bright yellow, and the carpet was a light green. The furniture in the room was smart too; modernised plastic silver chairs opposite one another. There was a drinking machine next to the door were the interviews were being held. Joe wished the man who had entered twenty minutes ago would hurry out – or even better, not get the job. After all, Joe really needed this. Sighing, he glanced around the room for something to do, neglecting the free fruit on a coffee table in front of him, surrounded by the latest fashion magazines. The only other person in the room was a dark skinned girl with dark hair, who appeared to be reading a magazine as she waited patiently. She was dressed in a smart blouse and pencil skirt, which showed off her attractive figure. She glanced at Joe when she realised she was being watched, and flashed him a smile. "Hi," she said, closing her magazine and placing it on the empty chair next to her, 'What's your name?'

'J-Joe,' stuttered Joe, 'Joe Jefferson.' He swallowed, clenching his fists. This girl looked friendly, but slightly suspicious. _And_ overly confident.

'Martha Jones,' she offered, standing up and lugging her briefcase with her, before taking a seat next to Joe. She extended her hand, and Joe shook it briefly, before glancing back at the interview room. Martha followed his gaze. 'Bit weird, isn't it, that two hours ago this room was full of people, and yet none have come out of that door…'

Joe shrugged. 'Maybe there's another door leading outside,' he argued in defence, the muscles on his jaw tightening.

She smiled benignly at him. 'Joe,' she said softly, 'We're on the top floor and there's no elevator. I somehow doubt there's a door leading outside from—'

'Yeah, alright!' He flushed red at her apparent glee in the current situation they were both in. But she was right – nobody had come out. Which meant…?

'It's not a hoax, is it?' he asked dryly, after a few moments of silence, 'Or… anything… odd…?'

The girl glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. 'Guess we'll have to wait and see, eh?'

'Will Martha Jones please enter the Interview room? Thank you.' The cool voice of a woman crackled into life through the futuristic speakers, and Martha beamed at Joe. 'See you,' she said casually, before picking up her briefcase and heading towards the metal door. Even though she was attempting to be brave and careless, Joe could tell that she was just as worried as he was…

'Please place your hand on the door for authorisation purposes,' ordered the woman's voice, which seemed to be more high pitched than it had done a few seconds ago.

'I can do that,' said Martha easily, placing her hand on the door. Joe thought he saw her slip something on the door – a little red button…? She caught him staring once more and gave the mere image of a wink.

'Please enter, and thank you for choosing to apply to Flow Dab, the latest and hottest magazine in London!'

Martha glanced at the anxious looking man she had only met a few short minutes ago. 'Bye Joe.' He could barely get his response out, before the door opened, and the girl stepped through confidently, and the only sound that remained was the clicking of her smart black high heels.

--

The Doctor had bonded rather well with these humans – or at least with two of them. Mrs Reficul and Caleb were rather nice, but Jake certainly wasn't. He was listening to his MP3 player, keeping well out of any conversation that may threaten to include him. Presently, Caleb was telling the Doctor about his recent dreams. 'And what kind of weird dreams may they be?' asked the Doctor gently.  
Caleb shrugged, rubbing his jacket and avoiding eye contact. 'I keep dreaming about these three girls, and I've never even met them before…'  
The Doctor smiled. 'Don't we all? So, what do these girls look like, Caleb?'

'Well, one's small and blonde, the other is dark skinned with dark hair… Doctor, are you okay?' Caleb glanced at the other man with respect. The Doctor's expression had fell for a moment, but then he shook his head slightly as if to dislodge any assumption. 'And the third…?'

'She's tall, with red hair, I think. She keeps asking for help. Like she's trapped or something, in my dreams…'

The Doctor was thinking hard now. 'Do you often dream about them?'

Caleb shook his head. 'A few times a week, not every day.'

Mrs Reficul smiled sympathetically. 'Don't worry, son, bad dreams happen to the best of us…'

'But what if it's not a bad dream?' Caleb glanced at Mrs Reficul, as if pleading for some sort of answer. 'What if…'

'We're here dear,' interrupted Mrs Reficul, giving the lad a sympathetic look, 'Come on. Get your friend and let's get some good seats. I'll get the drinks in…'

The Doctor rose from his seat, helping the elderly lady as he did, taking her hand and easing her to her feet. 'Mrs Reficul, you're quite cold…' he observed, letting go and giving her a puzzled glance.  
She smiled vaguely at him. 'It's nothing to worry about, dear. Come on, get off the bus and let the nice driver away.'

Caleb nudged Jake. 'Hey, come on, Jake. Are you okay? You've been quiet the whole journey…'  
Jake stood up, but waited for the old lady and the Doctor to get off the bus before replying. 'I don't trust that woman,' he said in a dry voice, as if he was dehydrated, 'Or that Doctor man, come to think of it…'

'They're perfectly fine, Jake! The only one who seems to have a problem right now is you.' Caleb shot his friend a look before heading off to catch up with the other two. Jake pulled a face when his friend turned away, and with his hands deep in pockets, he slouched off after them, making sure to turn his MP3 player down. He wanted to listen in, after all.


End file.
